


Retribution

by captivatingcapybaras



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Abusive Dursley Family (Harry Potter), F/M, Harry detailing what he would do to Vernon if given the chance, M/M, mention of physical abuse of a minor, mention of sexual abuse of a minor, tomarry - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-20
Updated: 2019-03-20
Packaged: 2019-11-26 13:21:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18181154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captivatingcapybaras/pseuds/captivatingcapybaras
Summary: “Tom?”“Hmm?”“Is it… horrible that I wish I could make them suffer?”Tom stopped carving the veal, plating it gently before handing one of the dishes to Harry. He appraised the younger quizzically, before exhaling through his nose.“Not at all, my soul. In fact, I would truthfully be shocked that you wouldn’t want retribution.”( In which Harry wishes desperately for revenge on his uncle; and Tom? Tom will do whatever he can to ensure Harry can serve his retribution justly. )





	Retribution

Months. _Months_ of poring over Salazar’s old tomes, most written exclusively in Olde Parsel. Weeks of scouring the Black, Riddle, Malfoy, even _Potter_ libraries. Every time he became discouraged, whenever his eyes strained and burned from looking at the swirling words of Parsel for the fifth hour that day, the small whimpers from the sleeping form next to him, the soft litany of ‘ _no, stop, I’m sorry’_ erased all hesitancy in his bones, renewing his energy moreso than any shot of espresso or pepper up potion could ever.

This wasn’t a request to be filled; his sweet soul would never ask him to dedicate so much of his time to a cause that the younger would consider selfish. In fact, Tom was the selfish one. It could even be argued that the mission was one of selfish origin- he wanted his love to feel the release of harming the man who stole his childhood and innocence. He wanted Harry to feel the thrumming in his veins at stealing the life from someone wholly undeserving.

Harry’s second year Lucius had done _beautifully_ ; while he had in fact tipped the diary into the redheaded bint’s cauldron, it wasn’t in fact her own (truly, since when did the blood traitors buy their children _new_ supplies?) but instead she was holding it happily for young Harry. When Harry resumed ownership of his cauldron and saw the new addition to his book set, he naively thought nothing of it; the one time his naivety bore positive results.

Tom and Harry began conversing- Harry slowly opened up; it took children with a past like theirs quite a while to fully trust. Harry began writing about how he wasn’t sure about certain occurrences, how he was treated. He wrote about how strange it was that the fully wizarding family had been on the muggle platform when he had been looking for the Express. How Dumbledore seemed to follow him everywhere; the uneasiness in his gut that bloomed whenever the old man gave him subtle suggestions, subliminally planted tasks.

Harry wrote about his cupboard, and that he still slept there most nights, especially when Vernon was mad. He wrote how he was beat, flayed, discouraged, berated- _tortured_ and kept hostage in what was supposedly meant to be his own home.

Finally, on Christmas Eve, Harry wrote about the new developments in his home life. How his Uncle was up for a large promotion at work. How he needed to _persuade_ his superiors to give him the opportunity. The bubbly drink, the car ride to the new house. The dark lights and blurred vision. The pain, the _pain_. The repetition; hearing the cordial exchange of pleasantries as he was delivered once more to Privet Drive, like nothing more than a Chinese takeaway meal. How each time he heard the jovial bartering of money or weekends off or more workplace advances for the _next time._ How there soon were more rides, in different cars to different houses. How his past summer had been hell reimagined, and how his despicable muggle uncle reveled in whoring out his own nephew for quick cash or a leg up on the corporate ladder.

Tom decided then to speed up his plan; this sweet young boy, his sweet Harry needed him. And Tom decided he needed Harry. In their discussions he became enraptured in the sweet boy, the humanity he possessed despite all of the horrific occurrences he had endured. He fell for the snarky remarks, the retellings of stories wherein the boy never dulled his sharp tongue despite the danger he faced. Tom also was shocked to hear the tale of how his older counterpart stooped so low; he had only planned on the single Horcrux, _perhaps_ two, but six?! And to then be vanquished by a magical babe- Tom would _never_ spill magical blood, especially that of a child! It seemed that his older self-forwent the obvious warnings levied by Harpo the Foul, and willingly descended into madness.

He needed to escape the confines of the diary, and with his sweet boy, the began to plan, to ensure that Harry would be protected, that Tom would fix the magical world under his original agenda, that they would bring those who had wronged them to justice.

Tom was brought out of his musings by the half-awake man beside him now.

“Tom?”

“Yes, Harry, dear, I am here.” He rested the large book against his drawn-up knees, threading his hand into the long, grown-out locks of his beloved.

“Is bed-time, babe. No more.”

Tom felt like there was a fork in the road here; immediate gratification and satisfaction for himself and his soul by placing the tome down in exchange for sleeping with his beloved in his arms, or the delayed happiness he hoped Harry would feel when he accomplished the goal he had.

“Please, honey? I want to snuggle.” And damn if that didn’t make the decision easier.

~

Harry was napping on the large couch behind Tom’s desk, as Tom held a meeting with some of his Elite. It wasn’t necessarily an uncommon occurrence for Harry to be a part of the meetings, however, being unconscious was a new addition to the routine.

“Not sleeping well again?” Severus took a long drawl from his black coffee, staring concerned at the small form behind Tom.

“No; it seems that winter specifically drains him and limits his sleeping abilities.”

“Those disgusting piggies got off far too easy, my Lord. I could have played with them! Made them so sorry to hurt our Harry-boy.” Hissed Bellatrix.

Harry and her had formed an odd bond; while Narcissa acted largely as the maternal role in his life, Bellatrix was a hybridized version of a vodka-aunt and an overprotective mother. Harry and her were inseparable the summer they met, Bella taking to him like a moth to a flame, allowing her dreams of a child of her own to mold onto Harry. She had lost the love-starved craziness she had throughout her younger-adult years; ever since she had been told her womb had been irreparably damaged as a result of an uncalled for and horrific auror raid, she had descended further into the pit of the Black madness. Harry was the ladder that allowed her escape.

“I know Bella. I have been… looking at something to serve as retribution for Harry.”

“Unless you can bring them back, Thomas dear, there is only time that will serve as medicine for Harry’s wounds.” Narcissa put the small teacup on the saucer, leaning forward towards Tom’s desk to do so.

As she was leaning back, Harry began whimpering in his sleep, and before the elder wizards in the room could move a wrenching ‘ _uncle please, no, no, no, stop, please’_ followed by a visceral sob wracked his body. Tom was out of his seat in an instant, moving to his lovers’ side.

~

Harry sat across the table at Tom, who was busy carving the rare veal for the two to eat. A spread of various vegetables, sautéed and roasted lined the small dining table. Harry nervously picked at his toasted bread before raising his green eyes to look at his lover.

“Tom?”

“Hmm?”

“Is it… horrible that I wish I could make them suffer?”

Tom stopped carving the veal, plating it gently before handing one of the dishes to Harry. He appraised the younger quizzically, before exhaling through his nose. “Not at all, my soul. In fact, I would truthfully be shocked that you wouldn’t want retribution.”

“I know there isn’t any way for it to happen, but Tom… sometimes, sometimes I just dream of seeing him, of carving into his skin as he did mine, and ruining his body and he ruined my mind. Gutting him, _eviscerating_ him, burning holes into his limbs and beating him and stuffing _him_ into some tiny damned cupboard and hearing _HIM_ cry out, pleading for food, for a fucking singular piece of bread. Hear the sobs that I would pull from his body- Tom, Tom, it’s horrible, it’s disgusting and vile and wrong, but oh Merlin do I _want that.”_ Heaved breaths, clenched fists around his knife and fork. It was the first time he had allowed himself to consider the desires he felt for his revenge, allow himself the freedom to indulge in his darkest wish.

He was a _good_ person; compared to Tom, he was an angel. He was Tom’s conscience, his guiding force to put those who had wronged them out of their misery sooner, to not be as harsh or cruel with his punishments. The hand that would press against Tom’s own, pushing his wand away from the heart of an enemy.

Yet, here he was. Wishing against all logic and reason for the very ability to utterly _ruin_ the man who ruined him.

Harry began again, hushed tone as if coming away from a screaming match. “I just- I know Dumbledore had a large role in this too. I _do_. But I don’t feel this visceral need to punish him; perhaps because he died at our hands, died on our time. He had long since succumbed to our power and his lifeforce resided solely in our hands. He knew the hatred we felt, the damage that he had done reversed back unto him. But damnit, he wasn’t the one to _hurt_ me, Tom. He wasn’t the one to- to, to sell me, sell my body to those disgusting men. He didn’t, didn’t- “Harry stopped there, throwing his utensils down and storming out of the room, tears cascading down his face.

Tom knew he would return in a few hours, beating himself up for allowing his emotions to overcome him, apologetic for ruining dinner. Tom, however, could never blame his sweet, sweet, soul for anything, much less an outburst as warranted as this.

It seemed that over the years Harry had healed, grown, adapted, however, there was still a shard of glass lodged in him. Festering, growing warm, rising to the surface of his skin until it burst back to the world. As Harry matured, fell into the committed relationship with Tom, became a co-ruler of the new Wizarding Britain, he had shunned this portion of his history. And just like an angry, infected abscess this part of his life was bursting open, needing to be freed before Harry could ever fully heal.

Tom was beyond thankful that he knew his bonded so well, that he had started his research at the first sign, months ago when Harry had had his first nightmare in years. He had the majority of necessary foundational knowledge in his mind now, and was _so close_ to a solution.

~

“Harry, love, come here, please.”

Harry strolled in from their ensuite, ruffling his long hair with a towel. Tom adored the hair as long as it was on his beloved, falling past his shoulders to his mid-back. It lost much of the unruly nature and quality after the blood glamours had been purged, and now had soft waves that curled in upon one another, a waterfall of black venturing down his back.

“Yes, my sweet?” He trotted over, resting on the side of the bed Tom was sitting at, folding his legs that were covered in his thick flannel pajama pants underneath him, resting upon his calves.

Tom marveled at the beauty before him; shirtless, toned chest, fey-like graceful pose, long and soft hair, big green eyes. He had never and would never be more thankful than anything in his life than that of his soul, sitting before him.

“Tom?” Harry softly prodded, smiling at the attention he was receiving.

“Oh- um, yes.” A throat clear. “Do you remember dinner a few weeks ago?”

“You’ll need to be more specific love; we do in fact have dinner almost nightly.” The soft teasing was accompanied by the reaching over of his hand to grasp that of Tom, rubbing his thumb against the back of the Dark Lord’s pale hand.

“It was veal, cooked rare. Marinated asparagus, toasted bread. You spoke of… a desire for retribution.”

Harry stilled then, his ministrations against Tom’s hand ceasing.

“No, no dear, I have told you many times and explained that night I think no less of you for these wishes. In fact, I had been considering them myself for a long while; looking into possibilities.”  


“Tom?”

“Harry, my sweet soul. You are my world; we are here together, we encapsulate the other. Neither of us can pass while the other is alive. We are the now immortal rulers of wizarding Britain, and you have stayed by my side for years, ever since your second in Hogwarts. I thank Lady Magic herself daily for you.”

“Tom, you don’t have to sway me anymore, dear, you’ve already entrapped me into your web.”

“Harry- I have found a way for you, found a way for you to enact your revenge, seek the retribution you rightfully deserve against that vile man.”

Harry retracted his hand, leaning back onto his haunches, surveying the man before him.

“How?” Dubious; guarded.

“It’s a lost magic, one that was banned eons ago and thus is _incessantly_ difficult to learn. I’ve been researching for months, Harry, _months_ , reading any and all books that could possibly have a half-word on the subject.”

“To- “

“Harry, I can return that disgusting piece of lard to this realm, tether him here until you have worked out all of your heart’s hurt.”

“ _How?_ ” Disbelieving; giddy.

“Necromancy.”

~

They made love that night- though, that wasn’t an unusual experience; the abnormalities lie in the nights where they didn’t praise the others’ body. They made love, passionate, fast, meticulous, sloppy, _perfect_ love, to encapsulate the entirety of the feelings they had for the other.

~

“Are you sure, Tom? I- I don’t want this to consume you. I know how you are with dark magic; you allow it to burrow in your heart, take up residence there. Allow it to motivate you, pull you in like a siren. What if… what if it enthralls you too much? What if the strength of this, the feeling of this ritual is too much to leave behind? I can’t lose you, Tom, I can’t let you go back under the pull of intoxication from dark magic just because I want retribution.”

Dark merlot eyes bore into large green ones. Large pale hands wrapped around slim yet toned arms. “That won’t happen. There is no more room in my heart for anything but you, darling one.”

“Bu-“

“Cease your worries, Harry. I will vow upon my magic if it would please you, but I swear I  will never allow this art form to consume me so wholly as my last forays into these magicks did.”

“You don’t need to do that.” A hug, forceful, the smaller man engulfed in the large form of his lover, protector, soul.

“I, Thomas Marvolo Riddle do vow upon my magic that I will not allow myself to succumb to the addiction of necromancy, nor will I allow it to consume my life and mind, so mote it be.”

“ _Oh, Tom.”_ Tom knew his bonded- better than he knew himself at times. Tom knew when to distract and divert attention when Harry was too overwhelmed with an issue, knew when to make sure he ate to avoid one of Harry’s unflattering moods; knew months before he himself did to begin looking into revenge attempts, and knew now, despite the statement against it, that Harry needed him to confirm that he wouldn’t be swept away in the tide of this magic.

He knew this all, knew all there was to know of Harry, and made sure to exercise the utmost caution and love when using such information.

~

A mirage settled on the floor in front of them, shimmering a large, unsightly man into existence.

There, unconscious, after months of studying and research, hours of preparation and chanting for the ritual, was the beast who stole Harry’s innocence.

Vernon Dursley lay on the floor, alive once more, entirely unaware of what was to come his way upon his awakening.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I've had this idea bouncing in my head for a bit and honestly had so much fun writing it. I hope y'all like it! Please let me know what you think <3
> 
> Love always! :D


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